Being Elizabeth

by Barbara Taylor Bradford

  SIX

  She stood outside on the Strand, staring up at the building. Her building. Centuries old, it was imposing, a landmark, and it was about to become her permament abode as her place of work. DERAVENELS.

  Taking a deep breath, Elizabeth Deravenel Turner pushed open the door and stepped inside. The commissionaire on duty straightened when he saw her. ‘Good morning, Miss Turner.’

  She nodded, flashed him her brightest smile. ‘Good morning Sam.’ Moving across the gargantuan marble lobby, she took the stairs slowly, filled with a mixture of emotions: excitement, awe, anticipation, a sense of jubilation because it was now hers, but also a hint of trepidation, mixed with anxiety. That’s normal, she thought, absolutely normal. I’m starting on a great adventure.

  Entering her office, she hung up her coat and walked into the centre of the room, looking around, and she couldn’t help thinking about those three men who had occupied this office before her … Her great-grandfather Edward Deravenel, her grandfather Henry Turner, and her father, Harry Turner, from whom she had learned so much. Men of honour, integrity and brilliance. She felt as if they were here in this room with her, felt their presence, their spirit … they were wishing her well …

  Walking across the floor, she sat down at the desk. This was the beginning of a new life.

  I was born for this. To be here at Deravenels on this very day. Monday, November twenty-fifth, 1996. To take over. To run it properly, to bring it through its current crisis, to bring it back to life. I must not be afraid. Not of anyone or anything. I must be determined, disciplined, dedicated, diligent, and devoted. I must think of nothing else but Deravenels. It is mine now and I must make it strong again. And I will.

  I have two men on whom I know I can rely, whom I trust with my life – Cecil Williams and Robin Dunley. We will be the triumvirate that runs Deravenels and we will bring it back to its former glory, as it was in my father’s day. I know that I have enemies within this company, those who were devoted to my half-sister Mary and who will want to continue with her policies. But this cannot be. She damaged the company, and her ideas have taken their toll. Those people will have to go. There will have to be a clean sweep. That is what Kat said to me last night: she called me the new broom that sweeps clean. She loves these quaint old sayings, and they’re never far from her tongue. She manages to make me laugh when I’m gloomy or not feeling well, those times when no one else can get through to me. My devoted Kat, so special to me.

  There was a knock on the door, and it opened immediately to admit Cecil Williams, who strode in saying, ‘Good morning, Elizabeth. You’re here early.’

  ‘To catch the worms,’ Elizabeth said, using one of Kat’s old-fashioned sayings. ‘And it’s certainly a memorable day, isn’t it, Cecil?’

  ‘Indeed it is.’ He sat down in one of the chairs on the other side of her desk, glancing at the old map hanging on the wall behind her. ‘I’m happy to see that back in its proper place. Do you know, I remember it from my childhood, when my father worked for Henry Turner, your grandfather.’

  ‘I’ll never know why Mary had it removed,’ Elizabeth remarked. ‘But then I’ll never understand some of the other things she did when she sat in this office. Here’s the bank transfer.’ She took the piece of paper out of her briefcase. ‘Robin wants me to show it to you, then take it home.’ She handed it to him.

  ‘Good idea,’ Cecil remarked, and looked down at the transfer, pursing his lips. He lifted his head, stared at her. ‘I can’t be sure until I look into it, but I think these might have been funds she transferred from her personal bank account.’

  ‘It’s still my money, whichever account it came from,’ Elizabeth announced, her tone brisk. ‘Anything and everything she had was inherited from our father and therefore it was mine as well as hers. And she had no right to give it away.’ Leaning forward over the desk, her expression intent, purposeful, she asked, ‘Can we get the fifty million euros back?’

  ‘To be honest, I don’t know, Elizabeth. I have to go through every single file Mary kept, and the books, and hopefully I will find the relative documents –’

  ‘If there are any,’ she interrupted peremptorily.

  ‘Only too true. I’m afraid there might not be. After the meeting I’ll start digging. And by the way, I’ve decided to bring in an outside firm of auditors. I’m sure you’ll agree that this is absolutely necessary.’

  ‘It certainly is. I think we should get as much information as we can, and as quickly as possible, in order to make the right moves.’

  Cecil nodded. ‘And which particular moves are you thinking about?’

  ‘Sweeping clean, Cecil. I’ve been considering that for days, and I believe we have to let five hundred people go, globally.’

  ‘Five hundred. In one fell swoop?’

  ‘Not necessarily all at once, no, but there’s a lot of dead wood at Deravenels. I knew that when I was working here and Robin has confirmed it. It’s people who should be retired. Mostly.’ She frowned. ‘You seem surprised. Don’t you like the idea?’

  ‘I feel the same as you do, Elizabeth, but we must be careful. I don’t want to create a stir in the City. There are those who might think we’re in great trouble. Sacking a lot of employees all at once tends to make people nervous, and they end up thinking the worst.’

  ‘I realize that we should do it in the best way, the nicest way. We don’t want to provoke gossip. Early retirement will appeal to many.’ Elizabeth paused, and there was a momentary hesitation before she added, ‘We have to cull the offices around the world as well, don’t you think?’

  ‘I do,’ Cecil replied without hesitation. ‘We only touched on it briefly last week, but I’m well aware we’re top-heavy with staff. Maybe I’ll put Sydney Payne to work on that particular problem. He’s such a marvellous diplomat, and it’s a situation that’s going to need careful handling. As I just said, Deravenels cannot look weak, at risk, in danger of going under.’

  ‘Yes, I understand. Last Thursday, when we were driving back to town, you said Deravenels needs an infusion of money. Where do you plan to get it from, Cecil? Or haven’t you thought that through yet?’

  ‘I have. Partially, at least. I think we should attempt to get all those euros back from Philip Alvarez. And I would like to sell off certain parcels of our real estate, but we can go over those points this afternoon in more detail, if you wish.’

  ‘I’d like that. But I just wanted to say this … I could give Deravenels some money.’

  ‘Never.’ Aghast, he gaped at her. ‘I will never permit you to give Deravenels money, not ever, Elizabeth. Although there might be a moment in time when you could lend them money. Or buy somebody’s shares. But give? Not on your life. That’s absolutely a no-no. I would never agree to such a rash move on your part. Now, here’s the list of board members, which you can look at whenever you have a moment. Don’t forget, the board meeting is not for two weeks.’

  ‘Any changes about this morning’s meeting?’ Elizabeth asked, settling back in her chair.

  ‘No. All of those invited are coming.’

  ‘I wasn’t planning to invite any of them to lunch. Were you?’ Elizabeth murmured.

  ‘No, I’m afraid not. There’s far too much work,’ Cecil pointed out. ‘This is my first day back in almost five years. I have a feeling I’ve a lot of catching up to do.’

  Once she was alone, Elizabeth put the bank transfer back in her briefcase, and then picked up the list of board members which Cecil had left with her. Studying it carefully, she wondered whom she could get rid of easily. Three names stood out because those board members were old, and wouldn’t or couldn’t put up a resistance to her. Then there were two other men whom she knew did not like her, were not of her ilk, and so they would have to go. ‘How do I get them off the board?’ she muttered to herself, and glanced at the door.

  There were several hard raps; it swung open and Robert Dunley hurried inside, smiling broadly, and carrying a bowl of flowers –
red roses surrounded by white roses and green leaves.

  ‘Personal delivery, Miss Turner,’ Robert said, walking across to the coffee table, where he put the vase in the centre. ‘The red rose of the Turners and the white rose of the Deravenels,’ he remarked, and added, ‘Top o’ the mornin’ to you, me darlin’.’

  ‘Robin, good morning! Thank you so much. The flowers are beautiful.’ As she was speaking she stood up and walked over to him, gave him a big hug, clinging to him.

  ‘I just popped in to wish you luck,’ he said and hugged her back, holding her for a moment too long.

  ‘I showed Cecil the bank transfer,’ Elizabeth said, after they had stepped apart. Turning, walking over to her desk, she explained, ‘He thinks it might have been taken from Mary’s personal account.’

  ‘Damnation!’ Robert exclaimed. ‘If that’s the case, Philip Alvarez will say it was a wedding gift, or some such thing, and it will be harder for us to get it back. I hope it’s company money.’

  ‘Actually, it’s my money,’ Elizabeth pointed out in the same businesslike tone she had used with Cecil Williams. ‘And I promise you I’m going to get it back from that terrible man, no matter what.’

  Robert stood in the middle of the office staring at her. The set of her mouth, the tough glint in her grey-black eyes telegraphed to him her determination to get her own way, and he remembered how, over the years, he had detected a hint of ruthlessness in her. But perhaps there was more than a hint.

  She asked, ‘Why are you staring at me like that, Robin? Do you think I’m sounding too tough? Is that it?’

  ‘No, not at all,’ he replied, truthfully. ‘I believe you should be tough, and, if necessary, ruthless, in this particular situation. I’ve been thinking about Philip Alvarez, and I’m going to find out exactly what’s happening with that real estate company of his. I want to know how the development in Marbella has proceeded. I must find out everything I can about it.’

  ‘That’s a good idea, yes. And if necessary, you must go to Spain and be my “two eyes”, Robin.’

  ‘Let me do the research first.’

  ‘What exactly was his company building in Marbella?’ Elizabeth gave him a sharp look.

  ‘Villas, a golf club, polo grounds. It was to be a gated community, like those in America,’ he explained. ‘Philip wanted me and Ambrose to go, to look over the polo grounds, the plans for the stables, and all of the things pertaining to horses, in fact.’

  ‘I see. If he won’t give the money back we’ll just have to go after the development. Perhaps we could make it a viable entity, especially if we added a spa. They are big moneymakers these days, and they are growing in popularity.’

  ‘It could be up and running, and doing very well,’ Robert said, ‘but I think not. I remember reading something about it quite recently … I got the impression Alvarez had stopped building. And rather abruptly. Perhaps there is trouble.’

  ‘I wasn’t a bit surprised when he didn’t come to the funeral,’ Elizabeth remarked. ‘But it’s possible he stayed away because he didn’t want to answer awkward questions. About the Marbella project,’ Elizabeth shook her head. ‘That makes sense, don’t you think, Robin?’

  ‘It does. And I aim to find out.’ He strode to the door and turned around. ‘I’ll see you at the meeting in an hour.’

  Elizabeth nodded and went back to studying the papers on her desk. But only for a moment. Her thoughts turned to Robert. She was extremely conscious of him, of his looks, his warmth, and, if she were honest, of his sexual potency. She bent her head, sniffed her jacket: his cologne clung to it, tantalizingly. A small shiver ran through her. Why was she suddenly having such strange thoughts about Robert Dunley, her childhood friend? Dropping her eyes, she stared at the page she had been reading. She smiled to herself then, knowing full well why.

  SEVEN

  The three young men sitting in his office with him were the nucleus of his management team. They had each been in Cecil Williams’s line of vision for years, as well as in Elizabeth’s. This was because they were talented, shrewd, trustworthy and diligent, not to mention absolutely loyal to Elizabeth. And to himself.

  They were sitting together at the other end of the room, chatting amongst themselves, and as Cecil studied them for a moment or two longer he smiled. Those were not the only characteristics the men had in common. All three were tall, handsome and well dressed, and they could charm, with the greatest of ease, anyone they chose to target, be it man, woman or child.

  Robert Dunley was the youngest at twenty-five, also the tallest and best looking. Slightly more inclined to be a clothes horse than the other two, with his impeccably tailored Savile Row and Armani suits, and flair for dressing, he had many important qualifications. He was an old hand at Deravenels and devoted to the company, his own genuine loyalty bound up with the years of service his father and grandfather had given to the Turners, and before them the Deravenels.

  He was Elizabeth’s only childhood friend and without question her favourite. Robin, as she called him, was the one person who could persuade her to change her mind, make a proper decision, and he could always manage to point her in a better direction. Obviously, this was because he knew her better than anyone else, including Cecil.

  They had clung together as children, especially through her terrible adversities with her father and then Mary. Robert understood her, could cope easily with her many foibles, occasional temper tantrums and bouts of chronic illness. Cecil had known him for years, and his father before him, and a lasting friendship had built up between them.

  Sitting next to Robert was Francis Walsington, a year older at twenty-six. Having studied at Cambridge and Gray’s Inn, Francis and he were on the same wavelength and had long been business allies. Cecil was gratified to have Francis around; he was a shrewd operator with tremendous psychological insight into people, and able to handle any situation with great aplomb and skill. He was an expert on security, intelligence, spying techniques and terrorism, and had numerous strange but useful contacts which Cecil didn’t want to acknowledge but was grateful to know that he had.

  During Mary’s power days at Deravenels Francis had travelled throughout Europe, stayed away from London most of the time. Apart from her peculiar management style, Francis found her religious fervour somewhat sickening. Inherited from her mother, Mary’s devout Roman Catholicism seemed overly zealous to him. Certainly it did not sit well with Francis’s laid-back Protestant outlook on life. He had arrived in London with great alacrity a few weeks ago, fully aware that Elizabeth would soon be running the company, and Cecil had brightened considerably at the sight of him.

  On the other side of Robert was Nicholas Throckman. He was the eldest of the three men. He was forty-three, and he had been a long-time employee at the old trading company. Nicholas had fled at one difficult moment during Mary’s tenure, no longer able to put up with her erratic management of the company and strange behaviour in general. He was well versed in all things pertaining to Deravenels, having worked for Edward Selmere during the latter’s Administration on behalf of Harry’s young son. He had known Elizabeth since her teens and was, in fact, a relative of Catherine Parker, Harry’s sixth wife and widow, who had been Elizabeth’s stepmother and dear friend.

  Of the three men, it was Nicholas who was the most gifted diplomat, in Cecil’s opinion, more than likely because he had had more experience. This morning Elizabeth had said to Cecil, ‘All we need are a few good men.’ She was right. And fortunately, Cecil thought, three of them are sitting here now.

  Rising from behind his desk, Cecil went to join his protégés, saying, as he sat down in a chair, ‘Are you happy? Are you pleased with your appointments, the things Elizabeth proposed to you last Friday?’

  ‘Absolutely!’ Robert exclaimed. ‘Who wouldn’t be?’

  ‘The same here,’ Francis agreed.

  ‘I’m extremely happy, Cecil,’ Nicholas murmured. ‘Very happy indeed.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it. The
reason I asked is because Elizabeth’s going to speak about your new positions at the meeting, and I don’t want any unforeseen problems from any of you. I want this transfer of power to be as smooth as silk.’

  ‘How have things gone so far?’ Francis asked, leaning forward slightly, his attention on Cecil.

  ‘Very well, I’m pleased to report. I saw John Norfell last Friday morning, and later in the day I met Charles Broakes. Charlie seemed profoundly relieved we’d moved in so quickly, and was extremely cooperative.’

  ‘What about Norfell?’ Nicholas probed.

  ‘He was most reasonable. I was cautious with him. Let’s not forget he was very close to Mary, and he’s a powerhouse here, as well as a long-time director. I handled him with kid gloves because I don’t want to make enemies for Elizabeth. I was especially mild, and I think I put him totally at ease. It didn’t hurt that I’d made him responsible for planning all aspects of Mary’s funeral.’

  Robert’s intense dark eyes settled on Cecil, and he said in a warning tone, ‘But he bears watching, take my word for it.’

  ‘Oh, I do. And I feel the same, Robert. So does Elizabeth, actually. Now, a word about the meeting. Elizabeth wants to come in once we’re seated, and she will come in alone. She will run the meeting, so we have to play it by ear. Be careful what you say, don’t give any of our plans away. Understood?’

  The three men nodded, their expressions solemn.

  Robert Dunley sat on Elizabeth’s right, and as he listened to her speaking he was filled with enormous pride. She was calm, collected and confident, and spoke eloquently about Deravenels. Also, he was proud of her appearance. Elegant in her navy-blue pinstriped suit, a crisp white shirt with an open collar, and large pearl earrings, she was the epitome of style. Beautiful but businesslike, right on the mark, as far as he was concerned.

  They were sitting around the large mahogany table in the boardroom, and until she had entered a few minutes ago the men had been standing around chatting amongst themselves as they waited for her. Charles Broakes, Sidney Payne, Nicholas Throckman, Francis Walsington were grouped together at one end of the room; Elizabeth’s cousins Henry Carray and Frank Knowles were engaged in deep conversation with Cecil, whilst he had been talking to John Norfell and Elizabeth’s great-uncle Howard, getting on in years but still a director of the company and a viable consultant. Nine of them altogether; seven he was sure about; one had a big question mark over his head. Robert had long been wary of John Norfell because of his closeness to the late Mary Turner.